Fresh Starts
by fatedtopretendd
Summary: "It took her a while but she got used to her new life. People always do." Marissa leaves on Jimmy's boat, but then what happens? Post season 3. Marissa centric. Eventual Ryan/Marissa.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is very much from Marissa's perspective but RM are not forgotten. There are maybe one or maybe two more chapters of this to come, however, I can honestly give no guarantee on when I will post them. I'm sorry about that but bear with me please. **

**Also, warning for language in small parts.  
**

**Read and review as ever. Thank you!**

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The ocean air was chillingly crisp, causing Marissa Cooper to shiver uncontrollably. Born and raised in California, the only weather she was accustomed to was the soothing warmth of the beating sun. And yet, she welcomed this new coldness. Despite the initial discomfort, there was something refreshing about the cold wind lapping against her skin. It was oddly cleansing.

She was still in a state of disbelief, unable to process that she was really here on her father's boat in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. She thought with a painful pang the people she had left behind. Her mom, Summer, Seth, even Kaitlin who she was only just getting to know again. Hell, she even missed Sandy and Kirsten; they were practically her second set of parents. And of course, there was him, Ryan. The most painful loss of them all. She was already longing to look into those deep soulful eyes of his, ones which always managed to lull her into a sense of security. She shook her head, willing herself to move away from such futile thoughts. This wasn't forever, she told herself; it was what she had also told him at the airport.

* * *

It took her a while but she got used to her new life. People always do.

She had never had to work so physically hard before. Her dad tried to go easy on her at first but even the smallest of tasks had felt so daunting. It was so different from anything she had ever been used to. Her dad was soft, always had been and especially when it came to her. But his leniency pissed her off even more. She was frustrated at herself for being so incompetent and his coddling made her feel more useless. She was tired of being that girl, _daddy's little girl_, incapable of taking care of herself. So she had snapped at him, told him to treat her like he did the rest of the staff. He had been shocked, Marissa barely ever shouted him (that honour had always been Julie's). After that, he tried to be more firm, as best as Jimmy Cooper could, and she forced herself to work harder. As more time passed, she found herself having to make less of a conscious effort.

The first month away was littered with phone calls home and a steady stream of emails. When she called home, she always spoke to Julie first. Her mother fussed over her and she acted like she didn't care for her concern but secretly enjoyed it. She wanted to sound adult and mature when she told her about everything she was learning, but her excited voice always gave it away. There was still the child in her, wanting to make her mother proud. Julie told her about all the Newpsie gossip, who was sleeping with whose husband, who was keeping illegal help at their homes, the usual Newport shenanigans. Before, when she was still back home, Marissa always rolled her eyes and ignored her mother's gossip. She still rolled her eyes but now when Julie spoke about it over the phone, she listened intently and sometimes offered her own opinions on what was permissible, what was outrageous or simply outright unacceptable. The conversations were so blissfully normal, she felt like she was still back home. Occasionally, Kaitlin spoke to her but it was rare. When they did speak, it always followed the lines of 'Hi, mom's making me talk to you. I hope you are still alive.' Marissa didn't mind, she knew her sister and knew she loved her in her own way. Occasionally, Kaitlin confided in her about the guy who had just asked her out or the one she had a crush on. Those conversation, were always her favourite; she felt like an elder sister.

Her conversations with Summer were always the longest. Summer detailed everything about her day. The cute shoes she had brought, the sales assistance who had been rude to her, all the Brown paperwork she had just received. Marissa interjected here and there with a passing comment and spoke of her own day. She always said less, there just wasn't that much about her day to tell about. If Seth was ever around, Summer passed him the phone and he filled her in all the new indie bands which were springing up. He never got further than giving her a few names because Summer always grabbed the phone back after two minutes. Marissa told him to email her the details and that's how she ended up talking to him. Their emails were surprisingly long. Seth gave her the list of all his current favourite bands and songs and added a detailed examination. She too told him about the new European music she was uncovering. Often, they talked about the books they were reading. She wrote once that sailing around the Mediterranean, she felt free and that this was how she had imagined Sal and Dean felt on the open road. She concluded that email by saying they really needed to do the pancake tour of North America some day. He concurred the motion wholeheartedly.

She always called him once she has spoken to everybody else. It was like her special treat at the end of the day. There were two rings and then he picked up. His voice was that same deep, husky sound, strong and steady as ever. They always said 'hey', it had turned into their thing over the years. He never really said that much. He mentioned anything new that had happened or if Seth had done something really crazy but she never received the Summer-esque outline of his daily life. He wasn't a talker - they both knew that. She said the most to him, at least it was the most meaningful. She vented how difficult she found the work, confided in him about how things were working out with her dad after all this time. She told him those more private details because she knew he would want to listen and would understand in a way the others wouldn't. In that same excited voice she used with Julie, she talked about everything she had learned, a bunch of them just being basic skills. He laughed, mildly teasing but delighted and proud of how she was maturing. Their phone calls always finished by referencing the next time they would speak. They had to believe a next time would come.

Eventually as the months went by, everyone grew accustomed to the change in their lives and constant communication felt like less of a necessity. Summer went off to Brown and life became newly busy. The phone calls lessened and the length of their talks vastly reduced. It became hard to find the time to coordinate the calls. Summer opted for email more and more, out of practicality other than anything else. Marissa wasn't hurt exactly, she had anticipated this to a certain extent, but a part of her was scared of losing her best friend. Summer wrote about her growing interest in the environment and she felt faintly that her friend was changing. Then on the odd occasion they managed a phone call, and Summer squealed in her ear about how much she missed her friend and told her about the little black dress which had Marissa's name all over it, she knew she need not worry so much. They have been friends for practically their entire lives - they will get through this just fine.

The change with Ryan was more subtle, maybe because they never talked as much as she did with Summer, so the change was less noticeable. After he arrived at Berkeley, their phone calls still carried on largely as normal though a little less frequent. He spoke in excited tones about everything that was different at Berkeley. Vaguely and very briefly, she wished she was at Berkeley too but that desire was always short-lived. The thought of being at Berkeley still hadn't felt right. Just like with Summer, his schedule grew cramped and they had to settle for emails. She always felt the urge to ask if he was seeing anybody new. Part of her didn't want to know, ignorance was bliss as they said. She didn't have to ask in the end, he ended up telling her anyway, about the girl he had just met at a campus party. He said that they had been on three dates and that it could be turning into a relationship. In her reply she told him honestly that she was happy for him. He didn't mention her again in their next two exchanges and she found herself asking how things were going with the new girl. His reply had been short and simple: 'It was going well.'

Out of all her friends, she had always thought she and Seth would not maintain much of a correspondence but his emails did not wane in length, at least not for a long time. She suspected it had much to do with him being left alone at Newport, while his best friend and girlfriend pursue their new lives. His loneliness was one she could empathise with. They talked as always about music and books but soon he gave anecdotes about working at the comic book store, stories which he may once have told a bored Ryan. His descriptions were always filled with his uniquely Seth-like phrases and in that brief moment, she felt an old normalcy.

Much later, after Seth finally enrolled at Brown, their emails shortened and became less consistent. But by then, it didn't matter. Everyone had adapted to the changes in their lives.

* * *

She didn't come back home for Christmas. She had to attend an interview at Oxford. Her dad was surprised when he found out she had applied but that was as far as his reaction extended. She hadn't known what to expect when she told her mom; it was a pleasant surprise when Julie quickly supported her. Marissa explained that this didn't mean for definite she wouldn't be going to Berkeley next fall, she said she was trying to keep her options open. Her mother listened and at the end asked whether she had told Summer about this, and with a further pause, added Ryan. Marissa said no and asked her not to say anything to them. Her mother's response was wary and Marissa protested that this was for the best. There were still so many uncertainties at that point.

The truth was if she had wanted to go home that Christmas, she could have. Her interview was mid-December leaving her with enough time to make it home for the last weeks of the year. She did miss everyone, very much so, but she was scared that she would see their familiar faces, feel _his _security, and all the desire to carve an independent life for herself would sap away. When she calls everyone to inform them she isn't coming home, she hears their spirits drop. There was an hint of anger in Ryan's voice as he demanded an explanation. She stumbled weakly over her words and he knew she was hiding something, but he let it go.

So she spent her christmas in Oxford and fell in love with the grandeur of the colleges. The antiquity was enchanting and she felt a pull she hadn't with Berkeley. In January, she discovers she has got in. She thought with agony, what the fuck was she going to tell him?

* * *

The summer months rolled up and she left her dad's boat. Everyone expected she was going to go home, instead she rented out a tiny, rundown apartment in Paris, working the days at a museum and the nights as a waitress. She roamed the alleys, soaked up the busker's music and the scent of fresh bread flowing from the bakeries. It was close to perfect, she had thought, and then she imagined sharing those walks with _him_. His arm would rest low around her waist, pulling her close into him, and every now and again, he would turn his head to press his lips against her flowing hair. They would laugh and exchange meaningless comments. They might drink too much wine and he would lift her and spin her as she squealed amidst giggles. These thoughts scattered her mind, littering her day and she wondered whether he ever had these fantasies too. She couldn't explain it to him, that she was doing this not just for herself, but for him too. She was not abandoning him, she was going to come back but that now felt like an empty reassurance. When she had finally told she would not be coming to Berkeley in the fall or even coming back to California, he had been reticent. He had tried to understand, but he struggled, and ever since, their conversations had lessened tremendously.

In Paris, she met James. He came to the cafe she worked at every evening, always sipping coffee with his MacBook in front of him and some renowned philosophical text by its side. She noticed him watching her and by the third evening, she had his inquisitive green eyes, trimmed stumble and what was clearly an expensive haircut imprinted in her memory. On the fifth evening, when he approached her, she discovered she welcomed it. The next night, they talked and talked and she realised she really might like him and she didn't know why. He was English, his parents horrendously rich, and in so many ways, he was every inch like the entitled spoilt rich kids she had known so well at Newport. She was alone, lonely and hadn't lost her annoying habit of always seeing the best in people. Behind the exuberance and the controlled stylised demeanour, she saw what was an intelligent, nice guy. When he kissed her one night in the middle of a Parisian street, as they strolled along it late some night, somewhat drunk on wine, she didn't turn him away.

* * *

Seth and Summer came to visit her in Paris. They had the address of the cafe she worked at and bundled in one evening. They saw her immediately, hurrying around the counter and bringing out trays of food. Summer nearly yelled 'Coop' but Seth restrained her. Instead they waited and a minute later when Marissa finally turned their way and their eyes met, it was a calamity of 'oh my gods' and hugs and squealing. Marissa spoke to her manager and succeeded in getting off her shift for that night. The three friends sat on one of the outside tables, exchanging every detail from the last year spent apart. Seeing them in the flesh, Marissa realised just how much she had missed them (in the back of her mind, she thought about how much she missed him).

It was inevitable that they would all meet but she not expected it to be so soon. That same night, sometime around nine, James arrived ready to pick up Marissa for one of their late night dates.

"Hi," he greeted her casually, walking over and kissing her cheek.

"Hi," Marissa returned somewhat awkwardly, aware that Seth and Summer were surely watching closely. She heard Summer cough and knew she wanted an introduction. "Um, these are -"

"Old friends from home," James filled in with an easy smile.

"Yeah," Marissa said with an uneasy laugh.

"I heard you guys talking, the accents kind of gave it away."

"And you are…?" Summer said in an attempt to further prompt Marissa.

"James Carter." He said smoothly, extending his hand out for Seth to shake and leaning in to lightly kiss Summer's cheek. Then he paused hesitantly and glanced at Marissa. "I'm Marissa's, well, I suppose I'm her friend."

"Friend, huh?" Summer asked, her eyebrow raised, while Seth smirked next to her.

Marissa looked sheepishly at James. She was about to speak up, when James corrected, "Ok, I suppose we aren't simply friends. Let's say something more than friends, how about that?"

"I think that suffices," Marissa chimed in, desperate to bring the questioning to an end.

James chuckled faintly and said, "I better leave you guys, you are probably desperate to catch up without me interfering." Marissa smiled gratefully at him and he smiled subtly back.

He got up to leave when Summer stopped him. "But hey, we should all meet for lunch sometime, get to know each other. How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's great with me. What do you think Marissa?" He observed Marissa with intrigue, curious to see her response.

Inwardly, Marissa groaned. Putting on her most perfect smile, she replied, "That's fantastic." James stifled a laugh and said goodbye. Immediately as he was out of earshot, Marissa glared at Summer and demanded, "Did you have to do that?"

"Coop, c'mon, you can't hide away your superhot English boyfriend." Summer complained.

"He's not my boyfriend," Marissa mumbled.

"Ah, I see Europe has severely liberalised Marissa Cooper," Seth quipped, earning him a glare too.

Ignoring him, Summer continued, "Look, Coop, I haven't seen you for a whole year. You've been living this exciting new life over here and, I don't know, it feels so separate from our old life. I don't know anything about it, I just want to be a part of it."

Marissa's expression softened and she replied, "And you want to do that by interrogating James, huh?"

Summer raised her hands in defence. "Who said anything about _interrogation_? Just a few casual questions."

"To be fair Summer, you are pretty darn aggressive when you question. I can see how it might be mistaken for an interrogation," Seth commented from the side.

"Shut up, Cohen," Summer said, lightly slapping his arm. "Coop, I just want to get to know this new friend, boyfriend, whatever. And as your best friend, it's frankly my duty to know. He could turn out to be your future husband and imagine if I hadn't confirmed if he was good enough for you."

Summer flashed her best friend her favourite pout and when Marissa laughed lightly, she knew she had one the battle.

"Fine, but please," Marissa gave them both a serious look, "play nice."

* * *

The next day, Marissa sat uncomfortably with Seth and Summer, waiting for James to arrive. She still wasn't sure about them all getting acquainted, and it was precisely the same reason why Summer had insisted on it. The minute, her two lives, the old and new, came together, her relationship with James would adopt a new degree of realness.

"Hello, everyone," she heard James's silky voice boom as he sauntered over.

Seth and Summer greeted him warmly and Marissa complied with a kiss on his cheek. Summer introduced herself and Seth, and immediately launched in with her first question, "So how did you two meet?"

James smiled and turned to Marissa. "Do you want to tell the story or shall I?"

"It's not really much of a story," Marissa said.

"Oh anything can be a story if you make it one," he teased.

Marissa rolled her eyes and addressed her friends, "You see, he's a writer and so he is overly romantic about everything."

"A writer?" Seth said curiously.

"Well, an aspiring one but that's another story. Now about how, Marissa and I met," James began, "I had a friend who recommended the cafe Marissa worked at. I was in the area one evening and thought I would check it out. So, I went in, sat down, perused my copy of Kafka, waiting for a waitress to come take my order. Unfortunately, when a waitress did come, it wasn't dear Marissa, but," he paused dramatically, "as she came and took my order, I put down Kafka and took a minute to just observe the scene and the rest, as they say, is history." He smiled at Marissa and it was so charming that in spite of herself, Marissa smiled back. "Naturally, as I am sure we can all agree, Marissa's pretty damn hard to not notice." He grinned as he saw Marissa blush uncontrollably. Before she could protest, he continued, "So, I was really quite captivated, as I'm sure most people are. I kept coming to the cafe, mainly out of naive hope and because the food wasn't half bad, and it turned out, she thought I was sufficiently interesting too."

"He was always reading Kafka or Sartre or Beckett - I was curious." Marissa said nonchalantly, with a shrug of her shoulder, but there was a faint glimmer in her eye which betrayed her seriousness. Seth had to restrain himself from making a snide remark over their supposed 'friendship'.

As Seth and Summer persisted with their questions, they came to discover that he had been living in Paris ever since graduating from Cambridge the previous year. He sheepishly admitted that he would have loved to have dropped out earlier, "the environment had been so intellectually and creatively stifling", but he was too afraid of losing access to the family bank account, which lets him live in Paris with expenses paid.

"He's the most privileged poet ever, don't you think?" Marissa commented wryly, to which James smirked.

"Don't your parents care?" Summer asked.

"Oh of course they do," he answered immediately. "Dad's an absolute arse about the whole thing but mum usually manages to convince him not to cut me off. I tell them, I'm taking this time to find myself, mum kind of buys it, even if a little reluctantly. My plan is that hopefully I'll have written the next bestseller before they decide to cut me off and then it won't matter."

"Oh who knows when that will be…" Marissa taunted as she reached for her glass of wine. A look passed between them that had passed many times before. Marissa thought he took things for granted, he was too privileged and a coward for succumbing so readily to his parent's help. He always looked back at her, a teasing smile on his face, eyes glowing with a quiet respect. His voice, distinctly accented, reverbed in her mind, telling her, _we can't all be as brave as you, darling._

"Alright, so I've talked a lot about me. I think it is only fair that I get to find out a little about what Marissa Cooper used to be like." James enquired.

"Oh, we have many a tale to tell." Seth replied gleefully and meanwhile, Marissa immediately stiffened. "The most exciting one being Marissa's lesbian dalliance."

"Seth!" Summer and Marissa shouted at once.

James laughed, "That I would not have anticipated."

"I was 16 and it was one brief relationship," Marissa elaborated.

"Well, what about boyfriends? What was her taste in men like?" James ventured. He had expected it to be a lighthearted question and less awkward for Marissa than the previous revelation, however, all three of them immediately hushed into silence as they thought of Ryan.

"Well, there's Luke." Seth offered causing Marissa to snort. "He was your stereotypical jock, only he played water polo and shaved his chest."

"So, they were like your perfect All American couple, I imagine?" James commented in an amused tone.

"Something like that," Marissa said dryly. "Until he cheated on me, that is."

"How cliched," James mused, but still offered Marissa a consoling smile.

"And get this, he also-" At this point Seth abruptly stopped, as Summer pinched him so hard, he yelped. "Ow, woman, what was that for?" He caught the crazed look in Summer's eyes and understood that this was the moment to shut up about Luke's exploits with a certain Julie Cooper. "Erm, he also shaved his chest, did I mention that?"

"Yeah, you did," James replied with a laugh. "So that's Marissa's dating history? A lesbian and a guy who shaves his chest?"

Seth and Summer averted his prying gaze and instead looked tentatively at Marissa. Marissa inhaled deeply and then answered, "There was Ryan. We dated for about two years years, on and off."

There was a finality in her tone which prevented James from asking any further questions on the subject. But, he caught something else in her voice, that betrayed the seriousness of their relationship.

* * *

Marissa leant against the window frame and looked on to the empty street. She heard Seth walk up behind her; Summer was already fast asleep on her couch.

"So Oliver was right about one thing, the Rodin and Musée Picasso are pretty impressive," Seth commented lightly.

"Please don't," Marissa grimaced at the mention of Oliver and Seth chuckled. Standing next to her, he too observed Paris at night.

"I get the attraction, you know," Seth said softly. "Being out here, living your own life."

Marissa smiled at him, pleasantly surprised by his seriousness. "It's a beautiful city, isn't it?" she replied and then sighed. "But, I guess I don't have many days left here now."

"Right, Oxford," Seth reminded himself. "Are you scared?"

"Terrified."

"But better than Newport huh?"

Marissa laughed wryly but it quickly subsided. She inhaled deeply and asked quietly, "How is _he_?"

Seth looked at her, studied her and settled on, "He's ok." Marissa bit her lip, feeling guilty. "_He misses you_," Seth added after some deliberation.

"He hates me."

"Marissa, that's the dumbest thing I have ever had, even by your standards."

"He's upset with me, I _know_ he is," Marissa insisted. "It's why he isn't here."

"He was busy," Seth tried.

"C'mon Seth, we both know better than that. He isn't here because he doesn't want to be."

Seth turned to staring outside of the window again. "It's hard for him," he confessed.

"I know," Marissa admitted softly. "I'm not leaving him, I don't want him to think I'm another person who is abandoning him."

"Why _aren't you_ coming home?" He looked at her intently. He understood wanting to spend the year away from Newport because God knows Marissa needed some peace and quiet. He understood the needing time and space, but he didn't really understand the insistence on three more years away. Maybe she really loved Oxford a goddamn lot, but he was sure as hell that she loved Ryan more.

"I need a fresh start," Marissa answered slowly. "_Ryan _needs a fresh start. If I go back to him now, we are just going to crash and burn all over again. There's going to come a point when he isn't going to want to try again. And I'm tired too, everytime we break up, it hurts more and more. Ryan knows it, and I know he knows it because he let me get on that boat, we need the time."

"When will it be the right time?" Seth challenged. Things had been going fine, everybody had been happy and then Marissa dropped the news one day that she would going to Oxford in October. Every since Ryan found out Marissa wasn't coming to Berkeley in the fall, he had been brooding and honestly, Seth was tired of seeing his best friend hurting. "What are you expecting? That one day all your problems will magically disappear and then it will be 'time'?"

"I know, Seth, I know we need to talk. I'm not that naive," Marissa asserted, surprised by his sudden attack. "It's just, it's complicated. I know that sounds pathetic, it is pathetic, but things were pretty fucked up between us. We were both fucked up by last summer."

They were both silent for a while. Marissa considered his accusation nervously, what if the 'right time' never did come?

"Look, I'm sorry about my outburst." Seth apologised finally, feeling out of line. "It hasn't exactly been easy," he explained cautiously. "Summer and Ryan were very torn up about you not coming back, _are _very torn up about it, but, I guess this isn't easy for you either."

"No," Marissa whispered.

"I shouldn't have attacked you like that, it's none of my business anyway." Seth attempted again.

"It's alright, Seth, I'm not angry. I know you're just looking out for the people you love." Marissa smiled sadly and became somewhat teary. "But I love them too, and it hurts me to do this as well. I miss them all the time, but _I_ need this. I need a brand new beginning."

Seth considered her statement and nodded briefly. Then a slow, devilish grin spread across his face. "Well, our budding Shakespeare _is _certainly new for you." Seth teased, referring to James. Marissa shook her head and laughed lightly.

"Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are about that."

"It's the accent, isn't it? It always is." Seth mused, while Marissa rolled her eyes. His voice slightly graver, he addressed Marissa once more. "You should talk to Ryan, tell him what you told me tonight. It might save you both some heartache."

Marissa nodded and mumbled an agreement. Seth may be right but she doubted that now of all times, with the Atlantic Ocean between, they would begin to refine their skills of communication.

* * *

Seth and Summer left two weeks after they came. The goodbye was tear-stained and filled with promises of phone calls and emails.

When Seth and Marissa came to hug, she told him quietly, "Let him know I haven't left him, okay? I'm still here."

Seth pulled back and replied, not unkindly, "You should tell him yourself." Marissa smiled sadly at him because they both knew it was indefinite when that would be. They boarded the plane and the loneliness hit her afresh. Her phone rang, it was James calling about dinner plans, and in that moment, she was grateful to have met him.

Her life returned, somewhat, to its previous normalcy but Oxford was approaching, and that filled her days with anticipation. She remembered a family vacation to London when she was six and the only memory which had stuck in her mind, was looking on to the Tower Bridge, against a backdrop of grey skies and drizzling rain; Kaitlin was crying and her mother was complaining next to her about the rain ruining her hair. She asked James question after question about England, about his days at Cambridge, and he always replied readily, delighted to have her attention.

Oxford also meant their separation and she was curious, almost, to see how she would react. They were lying on his bed one Saturday, the sun was streaming through the window and blazing upon them, and she was reading his latest short story. He was looking at her nervously, he always did, whenever it came to showing her any of his work. She found it endearing, because he was so rarely nervous. When the mask of confidence fell, she thought, she saw the real James. A boy who was actually quite shy, insecure about himself, and at unease with the world. But he did such a good pretence, she never knew. When he first told her, he had a few friends at school and to date had only been with two other women, she had been surprised. She recalled how he had sauntered up to her and introduced himself. He had appeared self-assured, certain of his charm, but she wondered now if the goofy hesitance she had perceived at the time as self-conscious façade, had in fact been genuine.

She finished reading his story, a simple love story between two teenages who meet once as they are travelling around the world on their gap year. They think they will never see each other again, but three years later, they end up at the same university for postgrad.

"It's good," she told him.

"But," he added, knowing it was inevitable.

Marissa deliberated, opened her mouth, then shut it, and spoke at last. "Their love doesn't quite feel fully real."

"What do you mean?" he asked in confusion.

"I'm not sure how to explain. I suppose, I don't know, maybe it's just that, it's feel just a little bit idealistic." He frowned at her. "Look, James, don't worry about it. It's good story, well structured, nicely written," she attempted to assure him.

"But you're not emotionally invested in their love," he offered, lying down on the bed in resignation.

"Yeah, that's kind of it." They said nothing for a while. She leant to kiss him and laid next to him, their hands entwined.

"Have you been in love?" he asked suddenly, his voice soft and unsure. It took her by surprise and she found herself replying honestly.

"Yes."

"With Ryan?"

"Um, yeah. How did you…?"

"I guessed," he said with a knowing smiling. He turned and propped himself up on his elbows and observed her.

"You never mentioned him before, until that day with Summer and Seth."

"I didn't see what the point would be," she answered with a shrug. His eyes narrowed, cutting through her feigned nonchalance.

"When did you guys break up?"

"Last year, around February," Marissa obliged. She wondered about his sudden interest, she had hoped he had forgotten about Ryan altogether.

"Have you kept in touch?" Marissa was surprised by the question, if she hadn't known better, she might have thought he was jealous, but James was not the jealous type.

"Not recently, no, but we were in touch for a long while after I left. Our families are kind of close, and he's Seth's adopted brother and best friend, so we were friends when I left." She paused for a second, hesitated and then added, "I'm not sure what we are anymore."

A lull settled in and just as Marissa thought the conversation was over, he asked, "What's it like?" His eyes darted towards hers and she saw the blistering romanticism in them as he clarified, "To be in _love_."

Marissa avoided his gaze; it made her feel uncomfortable. It felt like she was about to hand over something precious to be devoured and glorified. She was angry at him for asking.

"It's complicated," she answered and brought the discussion to a close.

He didn't bring up Ryan again for the rest of her days in Paris. Those final days became heightened, everything turned turned to a novelty. On her last night, James ensured it was the most extravagant night. An exclusive boat ride on the Seine, a private chef, the most expensive champagne and somehow, there were even fireworks. He probably thought he was creating an unforgettable night and ergo, would himself be unforgettable. That night, lying in bed with him, Marissa felt a subtle pang of loss. She would miss him she realised, yet, it would not be for all the wildly romantic nights. Instead, it would be for all the dinners where he forgot about the romance and fumbled in the kitchen, and they got too drunk to care about the food.

He came with her to the station, stood by her until she boarded the train. He looked at her sadly, intently, lovingly.

"Good luck," he told her and kissed her forehead.

"You too," she said, feeling oddly tearful. She almost didn't want to leave him. But then he let go of her hand and she got on to the train. As the train started, she watched him pass and the sadness left, and she looked on with excitement to the promise of a new land.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Huges thanks to those who left reviews and also readers in general. The next chapter will be the last but it could be a long wait for that. It seems more likely that I'll post a new one-shot before that. I currently have two one-shots in the works, one which is RM at Berkeley and a second which Taylor/Ryan/Marissa future-fic of sorts. Let me know in the comments if there is one people have a preference for, including next chapter of this. I can give no guarantee but I'll take it into account.**

/

Julie came to Oxford to help Marissa move in to her room at Brasenose College, and for once, Marissa greeted her mother with unrestrained delight. When she saw the wisp of fiery reddish brown hair and her mother's customary Louis Vuitton handbag in tow, she yelled out, "Mom!", and half-ran over to meet her. Julie mirrored her and within seconds, the once fervent enemies were hugging each other tightly amidst watery eyes.

They took a taxi to Julie's hotel, the finest in Oxford (of course), and celebrated with an unrestrained shopping expenditure. By the end, Marissa was sure she had enough clothes to last the entire three years at Oxford. She cringed when she thought that only a few years ago she would have treated these as the attire for one season. They told each other about all the events that were worth telling about and many more that weren't. They briefly discussed Jimmy and Julie told her things were great with Neil. Many of the stories had been told already but there was a thrill in telling them in person. The one topic that Marissa had always tended to avoid in her phone calls had been her romantic life but it was inevitable that they would eventually venture in that discussion.

Sitting in the hotel room, multiple mimosas already consumed, Julie asked, somewhat tentatively, "So, Summer mentioned an English boyfriend?" Her eyes were hopeful, willing her daughter's confidence, the one she had never had.

"There _was_ an English boyfriend in Paris, well, I don't know if boyfriend is the word for it, but yeah." Marissa replied with a shrug, surprising herself with how easily she managed to answer. It was easier talking to her mother now, she trusted more.

"So, that's all the information I get?" Julie said in that perennially exasperated tone of hers.

"It just wasn't that big of a deal. There isn't much to tell and it's not like it's relevant anymore."

Julie thought about asking about how things ended. She recalled Summer saying the guy was very rich and Julie considered commenting on how he seemed like a catch worth holding on to. But she said nothing. She watched her daughter and pondered Marissa's indifference about the new ex. She thought of Ryan; they both did.

Two more day passed before Ryan finally came up. It had been at the end of day spent reminiscing about old memories. Her mom had just got off the phone with Kaitlin and they were talking about Summer, and Seth, when it had slipped out.

"You know, everyone misses you like crazy."

"Mhmm, Kaitlin doesn't," Marissa pointed out wryly.

"She does," Julie insisted. "Your sister just isn't very vocal about her feelings."

Marissa snorted. _That was a lie._

"Still, I think you would be surprised. Several times last summer I saw Seth looking pretty glum."

"Mom, he was almost definitely upset about the fact that Summer would be leaving for Brown."

Julie frowned and began to say, "Yes, but -"

"It's okay, mom. I don't need people to miss me."

"But, honey, people do miss you. _Ryan misses you a lot._" Silence. Julie realised what she had just said. She considered backtracking but she had never been for one going backwards, she always marched straight on. It was, probably, for the best that Marissa confronted this unspoken issue. "You know you can't avoid him or _your feelings_ forever?" Julie told her daughter kindly.

Marissa blinked in surprised and then quickly recovered. "Well, seeing that I am living on another continent than him, maybe I can," she replied fleetingly. "Besides, who said I still have feelings for him."

Julie ignored the last part, _that obviously wasn't true_, and asked very seriously, "Is that why you decided to go to Oxford instead of Berkeley?"

"No, of course not," Marissa corrected. "_This_ is about me. It somehow didn't feel right to go to Berkeley." She shrugged blankly, unable to fully explain her decision. Julie narrowed her eyes, assessing her daughter.

"Okay," Julie said at last.

Marissa drew her knees to her chest and hugged herself tightly.

"I _am_ avoiding him," she admitted quietly. "I mean, not in that way, I'm not staying here to avoid him, but I'm afraid to call him or email him. We haven't spoken in months."

Julie gave her an apologetic look and put her hand on top of Marissa's, squeezing it lightly. Marissa seemed grateful.

"I think," Julie began and then hesitated. She wasn't completely sure what advice she could give her. "I don't think you need to worry about losing Ryan."

Marissa wasn't convinced. She knew Ryan well enough to realise her choosing not to come back probably upset him more than he let on. She became yet another person who left him behind. _But, she wasn't leaving him, really_. However much she told herself that, she couldn't shake the guilt.

"Does he seem angry?" she asked her mother timidly, afraid of the answer. If Ryan was angry and upset, well, Ryan did not forgive as easily as she did.

"I think, he seems more...sad and, um, frustrated." Julie tried to reply honestly, she was not one to sugar coat. Maybe, that's what led her to say the next part, "He's, um, seeing Taylor."

Marissa's eyes widened in shocked. "Taylor, as in Taylor who slept with the slimey dean?"

Julie nodded, a smirk just coming through. When Taylor had bounced into the Roberts-Cooper kitchen one day and announced in a dream-like reverie that she had spent the previous night making out with Ryan Atwood, Julie had burst out laughing in disbelief. Julie had assumed Ryan had been drunk; Taylor informed her he had been completely sober. Still, Julie had thought, the thought of stoic, silent Ryan dating the perpetual and erratic storm of chatter that was Taylor Townsend, was more than a little hilarious.

"But," Marissa said, still unable to process the information.

"I know," Julie said with a laugh. "We all thought the same thing, it doesn't make any sense." Julie had been hoping Marissa would see it in the same amusing light as she had, laughing at Ryan's questionable taste. Instead, Marissa appeared deeply distressed even with her attempts to hide it. "Oh Marissa, I wouldn't worry about it. It's probably just a summer fling." Even though she assured Marissa that it wouldn't last, she thought silently about how the relationship, which she had assumed would have lasted one week, had now surpassed a month.

"No, it's fine," Marissa said, changing her posture to cross her legs. She shook her head briefly, as if to clear her thoughts. "It's fine," she repeated, "I moved on. He can date whoever he wants, it's just that him and Taylor is a bit weird."

Julie gave Marissa a pointed look; she worried far too often about the complicated relationship Marissa had become involved with Ryan. But, she didn't press Marissa any further.

When Julie left Oxford, after many tears and hugs and promises of frequent phone calls, she told her daughter, "Be happy." That said everything about Ryan which Julie could not directly voice. If you want him, don't let anything stop you from getting him. But just remember, you don't need him to be happy.

Marissa laughed and replied, "I'll try."

* * *

She surprised herself with how well and how long she succeeded in avoiding thinking about Ryan. First her mother occupied her time, then it was fresher's week and she spent her weeks settling in with her classes and making new friends. It was strange at first, university in a new country, the different structure. While Seth and Summer and Ryan were debating what to major in, she had effectively decided from the beginning, but History and English joint honours turned out to be a good fit. As daunting as everything was, it was also exhilarating. And it was, as she had hoped, truly a new beginning.

Nobody knew her; the past was utterly distant. It didn't matter that she overdosed in Tijuana or that she shot her boyfriend's brother or that her friend died. Those things didn't seem like they happened when nobody else knew about them. Sometimes, she still thought about Trey. A nightmare would grip her on a random night. She often used to get angry when it happened; over a year had gone past, why wasn't she over it? Back in Paris, twice she had woken up in the middle of the night, stricken with fear, with James next to her. He had been freaked the first time. She hadn't offered him an explanation, just told him it was a bad dream. He let it go and they stayed up for the rest of the night, sitting apart on the sofa, watching TV. The second time it happened, he had looked on helplessly. He had brought her water and opened the windows to let some cool air in. He had wanted to hold her but hadn't been sure if she would welcome it. When she had calmed down, he had reached out to touch her arm.

"Hey, it's okay," he had said. She had nodded, and she realised that his hand felt warm. Unexpectedly, she had moved to hug him and he had held her. Later on, still holding her, he had told her, "It's okay to be upset, you know. Whatever it is, that's making you upset, it's okay to be upset." At some point, Marissa accepted she might never fully be over what happened, but, she could live with it.

She missed James more than she thought she would. Maybe it was knowing that Ryan was with Taylor, or her lifelong aversion to being alone, or it was simply him. Maybe, it was a mixture of all three. She considered starting a new relationship, some of the guys were cute but she felt no connection. One day she decided to say fuck it, went to a party, got a little tipsy and slept with a guy she had only ever said hello to in the cafeteria queue. He was attractive and the sex was alright, but the next morning, she decided that one-night-stands weren't her thing.

* * *

It should have surprised her, but, perhaps she had always known he would end up doing something stupidly romantic like this. Perhaps, she had been counting on it.

It was a month into the new term, she was walking back to her college and there he was, eased against the wall by the entrance, staring straight at her.

"Hello," James said, trying so hard to be suave but his smile was a touch too bright.

"Hi," Marissa said simply. She was smiling too. "What are you doing here?"

He opened his mouth to speak, and she saw his mind change. He shrugged and replied, with her favourite lopsided grin, "Seeing you."

She laughed and so did he; she noticed how his voice quivered and she realised he was nervous.

"Okay, I think I owe you a drink or coffee since you've come all this way to see me."

"I think you you do."

They went to the nearest Starbucks and he remarked how corporate that was; she rolled her eyes and told him to get over his bullshit. He told her he missed this. She replied only with a smile, but silently, she agreed. They talked for nearly two hours and at the end, she wondered how they even found so much to say. He hadn't even explained what he was doing here.

"Do you want to head back to my place?" she found herself asking. "We could grab some pizza and have dinner there. If you aren't busy or anything."

He looked surprised but pleasantly so. "That would be great."

They pick up the pizza, but within 10 minutes of entering into her room, they wound up kissing.

"Wait, wait, Marissa, I can't," he said quickly, stopping them. He took his hands off her waist and took a step back.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He sighed and deliberated. For once, words weren't his friends.

"I came here for you," he said quietly, almost afraid. "You left and I spent all my time in Paris missing you. So, I moved back last week."

"Okay," Marissa whispered unsurely. He was telling her that he basically moved countries to be with her; the thought was unnerving. "You do realise, that's a pretty big thing?"

She moved to sit on her bed and he stood across her, leaning against her desk. She had never found her room so small until now.

"I know," he said and a small smile fluttered on his face. "But, I felt like it."

"You felt like it?" Marissa repeated, smirk on her face.

"Yeah." He grew serious, "It's, erm, you're, well, you're worth it." Her heart was beating, she feared he was going to tell her he loved her.

"I don't know if, I mean, are you really sure about this?" Marissa stammered. He walked over and sat next to her, taking her right hand.

"Look, Marissa, I'm not saying I'm in love with you, but I like you a lot." He paused, mulled over his words and then added ever so quietly, "Maybe, one day I could be." Then he exhaled and spoke with renewed confidence. "I've never had a relationship that's been worth holding on to, until you. I'm not giving up anything by being here, the moving from Paris to London is not a big deal. All I'm saying is that I want to give this relationship a proper shot. I don't just want to hook up," he paused and she looked up to meet his eye, "I want to be your boyfriend."

She processed his words and her anxiety lessened.

"Boyfriend, huh?"

"Yes. Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

He smirked at her, sensing that she was not about to reject him. She didn't.

"_We could give it a try._"

* * *

Being with James was easy and she got used to it quickly. Initially, he rented out a place in Oxford but after a while, he took up a freelance writing job in London. They spent most of their weekends together, either in Oxford or London, and it was comfortable. They went to the theatre or to art shows or gigs featuring unsigned bands. He took her out to expensive dinners and from time to time they attended some quasi-hipster party he had been invited to. Her life felt vastly different from the one she knew back at Newport; but it was a good kind of different.

She started to let James further into her life. He asked her about Ryan again. He had been searching for his scarf in her room when he stumbled upon a series of photo albums Marissa kept tucked away. She walked in to see him looking through the photos, settling on one of her and Ryan.

"He has nice eyes, nice jaw too" James commented. He looked up to meet her gaze, "Kind of a rugged handsomeness."

Marissa pursed her lips, wary of where he was going with this. She sat down next to him and observed the photo. She remembered it instantly. Summer had taken it at New Years, at a party at her house. Marissa was sitting on Ryan's lap, both her arms around his neck. His left arm was wrapped tightly across her waist and his right hand was holding a beer bottle. They were both smiling into the camera and the sight of Ryan, smiling so brightly, caused something to swell in her heart. Suddenly she was remembering his mouth pressed close to her ear, he was slightly drunk, whispering to her in that noisy room, "You look really fucking beautiful tonight." Then he had kissed her cheek and her neck and Marissa could almost feel his lips on her body, as he had gone down on her, later that night.

"Tell me something about him. How did you meet?" James asked and Marissa was shocked out of her memories. She blushed deeply, thinking about her thoughts just a minute ago.

"Um, sorry, what?" she stuttered and then recovered quickly, "You want to know how we met?"

James sighed, he looked agitated.

"I just wish you would let me in a bit more." He bit his lip and then added, "Please."

Marissa thought about his request and it struck how often she had wished them same thing from Ryan, but she had rarely voiced it to him. Always too afraid it would push him too far away.

"We met on his first night in Newport," she told him. She needed to let him in more if she wanted this to work. "I mentioned before he was Seth's adopted brother, well, he was adopted at 15. He came to Newport after his brother forced him into stealing a car. They were caught and his brother ended up in jail, while Ryan got out. Seth's dad was his lawyer and when his mother through him out, he took him in. Anyway, it was his first night and at the time, I was living next door to the Cohens." Marissa paused, recalling with vivid force the moment when she had walked down that driveway and seen Ryan. "I was waiting by the driveway for my boyfriend, Luke actually, if you remember, to pick me up and that's when I met him." His leather jacket and fading grey hoodie flashed in her mind. A cigarette twirled in his mouth and minutes later the smoke had hung in the air. "I asked him who he was," she fought back a smile as she remember his awful line, _whoever you want me to be_, "and we started talking and it just, I don't know, it felt right." Marissa smiled sadly. So much had been lost since that first night.

James nodded and returned her smile. She caught the same wonderment in his eye as had been present when he had so earnestly asked what it was like to be in used to think in Paris, and continued to think in Oxford, that he was more in love with the idea of being in love than anything else. Sometimes, when he looked at her, she thought that he didn't really see her, not really. He didn't see the perfect socialite princess that so many in Newport had perceived. Instead, she thought he saw something else entirely; he saw some beautifully romantic character, who he wished was destined to be his great love. The only boy, she believed, who has ever really seen her has been Ryan.

However, when James told her, "Thank you", and kissed her forehead, she sensed something purely genuine.

* * *

Another Christmas came and she didn't go home. This time, she told herself, it wasn't exactly down to her. Julie called her one day proposing the idea of Christmas in England. Kaitlin had been complaining about Marissa's seemingly exciting travels around Europe while she was stuck in Newport. So Julie had offered her a vacation in the UK as a compromise. She left Marissa the option to go back to Newport, but mentioned it would be nice to have all her girls together. Marissa had agreed quite quickly. She put it down to a wish to see her family, but of course, Marissa and Julie both knew Marissa was delaying her eventual confrontation with Ryan.

It turned out that Ryan didn't come home either. Taylor convinced him to go skiing with her in Vermont. When she had found out from Julie and Kaitlin, she had been stunned into speechlessness. There wasn't even any point in denying the news bothered her. Kaitlin and Julie had shared a worried look, then Kaitlin in that typically flippant style of hers had scolded, "Jesus, Marissa. Would you please stop being such a drama queen? As if Ryan will ever be over you. I mean it's you for godsake, like a boy has ever not been in love with you."

It bought the trace of a smile on to Marissa's face. She _had_ missed Kaitlin a lot.

She was surprised by how much they connected that December.

"Newport's kind of boring without you," Kaitlin had told her one evening. They were lying in bed, _The Sound of Music_ was on TV.

"Really?" Marissa had been amused, she hadn't thought Kaitlin would have cared about her absence.

"Yeah," Kaitlin had muttered. "You know, It was kind of cool hanging out togetherr before you left."

"Yeah, it was pretty cool." Marissa had avoided any further comment, knowing her sister was not one for sentimentality, but it couldn't stop her from smiling wildly. Kaitlin noticed.

"Oh please, it's not like I miss you or anything. I was just saying."

"Yeah, _suuure_. Whatever you say."

"How was dad anyway?" Kaitlin asked, changing the subject.

"He was alright, he seemed to be on the right track. But you never know with him, do you?" They shared a knowing look. Marissa wondered why they had never talked more when she was still in Newport. The only other person who completely understood their fucked up family was the other family member going through it. "It was good seeing him though. Do you two…?"

"We talk," Kaitlin replied. "Email, IM, whatever. But, it would be nice to see him."

"He's just busy, you know. With the business and everything." Kaitlin appeared unconvinced. Marissa had to admit that in many ways Kaitlin had got the worst deal in the mess that was their family. She used to think she was lucky to be away from it all in boarding school, but she thought now about how isolated she must have been, how excluded she might have felt. "He does love you, you know that right? Mom too."

"They do a fucking fantastic job of showing it," she muttered and then shrugged. "But yeah, I know."

* * *

Julie loved James. It had always been inevitable.

When they met, James brought presents. Macaroons imported from France, chocolates from Switzerland, the best Scottish whiskey. He was going to buy Chanel bags and Louboutins but she had threatened to break-up with him if he did.

"Marissa, I don't why you are worrying yourself about Ryan and Taylor -"

"I'm not worrying about Ryan and Taylor," she had countered but Julie blissfully ignored her.

"Honestly, honey, James is such a sweetheart. He's polite, handsome, intelligent, has _great_ taste."

"And he's rich," Kaitlin added, smirking at her mother. They all knew why Julie really loved him.

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but, yes, that's true as well."

Kaitlin turned to Marissa.

"I would be careful about letting mom spend too much time with him."

Marissa laughed, even if she cringed at the thought of Julie and Luke.

"Kaitlin! That's enough from you." Julie snapped back. Turning back to Marissa, she said, "You know he's completely in love with you. The way he looks at you, I bet he would marry you in a second."

"Mom, can you slow down please? Marriage is definitely the furthest thing on _both_ our minds."

"I'm just saying. He's a keeper, Marissa."

Marissa shook her head; there was no way of convincing Julie Cooper that James was not perfect.

* * *

She wrote to Ryan on Christmas day after days spent dwelling on on him and his relationship with Taylor. She stumbled across Kaitlin's laptop one day, open to her Facebook account. She had heard about the site but hadn't bothered to get an account herself. On a whim, she decided to search Ryan's name but he didn't appear to have an account. Instead of leaving it there, she searched for Taylor. Taylor did have an account and was friends with Kaitlin. She promised herself she would only take cursory glance but when she saw a photo of Taylor and Ryan on a ski slope, she ended up looking through the entire album. Her one consolation was the few photos where Ryan appeared completely miserable, presumably due to the cold, but she could believe otherwise. On Christmas day, her sentimentality overruled and she felt, more than ever, that she and Ryan were losing touch. The idea scared her into action.

Their last email had been in May just as she had settled in Paris and told him about her plans for the Fall. He had been the last one to write. It was a short email, casual but ambivalent. It disheartened her so much, she was at a loss on what to write. She knew he both needed and wanted a full explanation, but she did not how to give it. Now, she felt compelled to try.

_Hey,_

_It's been a long time. How are you?_

_I'm sorry that I haven't really kept in touch. It's been very busy, a lot of new things to get used to. I'm sorry too for not visiting since I left. I've want to but like I said, life's been hectic._

_I really hope things are going well for you. How's Berkeley? I bet you're aceing all your classes (Seth informed me you had reacquired your "geek streak"). Do you still want to be an architect?_

_I'm sorry I'm not there with you. I know you must be wondering what happened to change my mind and honestly,I don't even fully know. But, do you remember that night we were talking about Berkeley in the Cohen's kitchen, right after we came back from visiting? You told me it felt right for you, I saw it on your face when we were there and I knew I didn't have that same feeling. I felt as lost there as I did in Newport. I really needed that year out and I know it's such a cliche, but, I had to find myself. And I applied to Oxford on such a whim, I never thought I would get in or fall in love with it as much as I did. It's really so beautiful. It's refreshing being out here. _

_I hope you understand. And Ry, I hope you know that me being here, deciding not to come back, it's not me leaving you. _

_Anyway, take care. Have a great Christmas._

_Love,_

_Marissa_

* * *

It took him two weeks to reply. She spent every day on edge, checking her emails far too often. Even though her days were occupied by her mom or Kaitlin or James, Ryan was on her mind more often than not. When he finally replied and explained that he didn't have brilliant internet for the last two weeks she felt relieved. He might by lying, but she was happy to believe it.

He was warm in his reply, even if somewhat hesitant. He told he understood but did not dwell long on it. He asked her about Paris, Oxford, her classes, all the little details that they had lost in the expanse of silence. He told her about his own life and that's how their emails continued. Casual and friendly, no mentions of boyfriends or girlfriends and always careful to not surpass the boundary that meant anything more.

She thought about how their emails used to be. An openness had been lost, but then again, he always tended on being closed. At least, they had reconciled something.

* * *

She told James about Trey in early January. They were at a party in Kensington hosted by some publisher that James was vying for. James was busy networking with supposedly important people and Marissa decided to leave him to it. A middle-aged man, with a face that was too tanned and hair greasily slicked back, approached Marissa. He started talking and she felt obliged to be polite, but she was uncomfortable. He stood too close and reeked of entitlement. He placed his hand on her arm and asked her to dance. She said no and attempted to pull her arm away, but he gripped on tighter and leaned in further.. He asked again and she was preparing herself to be more forceful when James grabbed the guy by his collar and shoved him against the wall. Everybody gasped.

"Get your fucking hands off my girlfriend." She saw that he was shaking. She knew that wasn't just anger; he was scared. He didn't do this kind of thing.

"Fuck you, you little shit." The guy retorted and pushed James back. Some guys came between them. James clenched his fist and Marissa immediately placed her hand over it.

"James, let's just go, okay?" she said softly. He was breathing heavily.

"You're a fucking sleaze, you know that," he told the guy. Marissa say the man's eyes turn darker and she feared he was going to hit James. He edged forward but someone restrained him.

Instead, he settled on shouting a simple, "Fuck you."

James turned, releasing his fist to hold Marissa's hand, and they walked out together. Neither said anything. He hailed a taxi and they travelled silently to his apartment, but, he never let go off her hand. When they got inside, he finally did so. He sunk to the sofa and placed his head in his hands.

"I should have punched him," he muttered.

"No, you shouldn't have. It wouldn't have solved anything." She moved to sit next to him. He lifted his head, looking straight ahead, and shook it.

"It was wrong. It was fucking wrong."

"I know," Marissa said timidly. She could remember that night on the beach too clearly.

He finally looked at her, full of sorrow and shame. "I am so sorry."

"It's not your fault." Her voice was quiet, the words were barely audible. Her body shook, she gasped for air and then she was crying. She cried and he held her. It was like he knew, had always known on some level, about what had happened with Trey. She told him that night about the attempted rape and the shooting. He listened and said very little, but she felt slightly better by the end.

She would later think back to that night and wonder if the pull she had felt to him that night, when he had consoled her and kissed her forehead, had been the beginnings of love. In the end, she decided it was something that resembled it very well.

* * *

She hadn't been home in nearly two years. She left in May 2006; it was April 2008 now. It was finally the news of an earthquake in Orange County that forced her to get on to a plane. She heard the news in the morning as she was having breakfast with James. He was the one who points it out to her; she was occupied reading an article in the paper. When she saw the news, she instantly froze.

She called Julie immediately, failed to get hold of her. Same result with Kaitlin. She tried Summer, who was home for Easter, and had no luck. James told her to get on a plane straight away. After all, she didn't have to be back in Oxford for another week. He bought her the ticket, even offered to come with her but she told him he didn't need to. He didn't press her any further. He helped her pack, made sure she had everything she needed and then drove her to Heathrow.

Just as she was about to leave, he grasped hold of her hand. Come back, he wanted to say. Instead he pulled her back in and kissed her once more. Then, he let her go.

* * *

Somehow, James had managed to get hold of a direct flight and Marissa arrived in LA three hours later in the evening. She called Julie again and finally her mother picked up?

"Mom, are you okay?" she immediately asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Kaitlin's fine. We're okay."

"Is Summer alright? Seth, Ryan?"

"Summer's fine, Seth too." Julie paused.

"Mom, is Ryan alright?" Her voice had started to shake.

"Yes, yes, he's fine. It's just that he's hurt slightly, but it's fine. He'll be okay."

"What you mean by he got hurt slightly?" Her voice still remained panicked.

"I'm not sure exactly. He's in the hospital, but Sandy said he'll be fine."

"Right, okay," she said, marginally calmer than before. "Look, mom, I'm coming to Newport."

"Marissa, there's really no need for that -"

"Mom, I'm already in LA."

"Wait, what?"

"I'm in LA."

"Marissa, you really didn't have to."

"I know, but I wanted to. I couldn't get hold of anyone, I was worried. And not just about Ryan."

"Aw, sweetheart." From the other end, Marissa heard what sounded like muffled tears.

"Mom, are you crying?"

"No, no, it's just, allergies and there's so much dust around."

"Okaaay. I've got to go now, but I'll probably be in Newport in an hour and a bit. There's a bus leaving in 10 mins."

"Alright, bye, I'll pick you up at the station, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

* * *

They were in the elevator, going up to Ryan's floor. Marissa shifted her weight from one foot to the other and fidgeted with the strap of her handbag. She turned to Julie and asked with a tone she hoped sounded casual, "Is he still with Taylor?"

"Um, yeah. But," Julie deliberated, "I heard they were having some trouble."

"Oh," Marissa said and nothing more.

As they just passed the penultimate floor, Julie asked, "You're still with James though?"

Marissa nodded. "Yeah, we're good."

The elevator doors opened and Marissa rushed out. Marissa was just about to grab hold of a nurse when Sandy saw them.

"Marissa, what a surprise?" she heard Sandy's voice boom.

Marissa stopped and faced the smiling, yet slightly confused, Sandy Cohen.

"Hey, Sandy," she said.

"It's great to see you kid, but I've got to ask-"

"I heard about the earthquake and came right over," Marissa interjected. Nervously, she said, "I heard Ryan was in the hospital."

"Ah, right." A knowing look passed over Sandy's face causing Marissa to blush. She didn't want him to think she had come all this way Ryan; it had been for everyone. "Well, I'll take you right over. Don't worry, he's alright."

Marissa processed his words and felt relieved, but a different kind of anxiety took over. She was about to see Ryan again after two years and she had no idea how he would react to seeing her. She did a cursory scan of the area around her, wondering if Taylor was here too. She probably was. What if Taylor was with Ryan now? That would undoubtedly be an awkward meeting between the three of them.

"We're here," Sandy said from ahead. She could just about make out Seth's voice.

"Dude, just think how cool a body swap would be," Seth said.

"It would be kind of weird." She heard Ryan's voice and suddenly became rooted to her spot. Maybe it was wrong to have come after all.

Sandy noticed her stop. "He's going to love seeing you, you know," Sandy told her. "C'mon."

Marissa smiled thankfully but waited for him to lead.

"Hey, dad," Seth said.

"We've got a surprise visitor," Sandy told them. Tentatively, Marissa stepped into the room. The room felt blindingly white and even in the sparseness, she had to scramble to find Ryan. He was lying on the hospital bed. His hair cut far shorter than when she had last seen him and some stubble on his face. He was looking at her in mild disbelief and then slowly, a smile fell on his face.

"Marissa!" Seth shouted in surprise.

"Hi," she said nervously. All eyes at once fell at Ryan.

"Hey," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I heard about the earthquake and I don't know, I had to be here. I took the earliest flight there was."

Ryan nodded, taking in her words.

"It's, um, good to see you."

"You too." She smiled at him and he smiled back. "Are you okay, by the way?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It was just, a little wound."

"We were completely not worried," Seth provided from the side. Before their conversation could go any further, a doctor came with the details for discharging Ryan. Marissa stayed for a while, and then excused herself to go see Kaitlin. She was very much aware of running into Taylor.

* * *

She woke up at 5am after an uneven night's sleep. It was strange being back in her old room (Kaitlin had changed her mind one month after Marissa left and retired it). Even more odd was having the Cohens under the same roof since their house was damaged by the earthquake.

She got up and head downstairs. She was about to prepare a cup of coffee when she caught sight of Ryan sitting outside by the pool. Last night, she had eventually seen Taylor. They had said very little, Taylor had politely welcomed her back, Marissa had reciprocated. As she stepped outside, squinting at the slowly dawning sunlight, she saw the orange glint of a cigarette.

"Can I bum a cigarette?" she asked. He turned, saw her and chuckled slightly. She went over and sat next to him.

"Do you really want one?"

"No, not really. I never really like smoking that much," she told him.

"So, all those years ago when you asked for a cigarette, it was all just a ploy to talk to me," he commented with fake shock.

"Yeah, it was," she admitted with a laugh. "How come you're smoking now? I thought you didn't really anymore."

"I don't." He turned his face away and she watched him grow serious. "It's been a weird 24 hours. Seeing you again after all this time."

"Good kind of weird or bad kind of weird?"

"Just _weird_."

He looked down and asked, "How have you been?"

"Good, things are going well."

"Yeah," he said and it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Yeah. Oxford's worked out well, I was worried it might not, but it's been good."

He kept his head down as she spoke. When she finished and he finally looked up, she saw a melancholic happiness in his eyes.

"I'm glad," he told her. They said nothing and he returned too gazing at the pool. He took a drag of his cigarette.

"You would love all the buildings, the old architecture," she mentioned.

"Yeah, I probably would." From the side, she could make out just a faint smile. His eyes avoided her, staring straight ahead. He puffed out smoke and then said at length, "I heard about the new boyfriend."

Marissa watched him more closely but his face betrayed very little. She thought about laughing and simply brushing his statement aside. Instead, she asked, "What did Seth tell you?"

"Not much, just that he was British and a writer."

"That's all Seth said?"

"Well," Ryan smirked and added, "Maybe also that he was a little bit pretentious, but I think that comes with the territory."

"Oh, really? So, all writers are pretentious?" Marissa teasingly challenged.

"No, not all, just..most."

"Mmmh, well," Marissa began. "James is, he's a _good_ guy."

Ryan finally turned to her and she saw the seriousness on his face. Like so many times before, their eyes met and the weight of all the things unsaid beared down on them.

"I heard what he did, that he moved back to England for you." he stated quietly. "He must be really crazy about.

Marissa bit her lip and considered brushing Ryan's comment aside. She settled instead to avoid it altogether and said on an impulse, "I heard about Vermont."

Ryan blinked in surprise and as quickly as his composure left, it returned. "It was _Taylor's_ idea," he told her.

She laughed. "Does that make any difference?"

"Yes." He sighed and from the way he clenched his fists, she knew he was frustrated. She couldn't tell if it was at her or Taylor. "Anyway, why does any of it matter at all?" he mumbled.

"Ryan," she said emphatically. "Of course it matters."

"Why?" Suddenly, he was looking at her again with fiery eyes that burnt through her. It reminded her too vividly of standing by a vending machine as he challenged her to clear the air once and for all.

"Because you matter. Because I care." She spoke the words with a quiet confidence, her voice unwavering and resolute. He blinked once more as the words hit him with force. Then his expression softened.

"Vermont was just a holiday. There's nothing more to it," he said and returned to his forgotten cigarette and took a long, drawn out drag.

"I,"she began and thought about all the things she wanted to say. Things that are profound and heartfelt and will work to repair the distance of two continents. In the end she as incapble of saying anything at all. As if somehow sensing what she had intended to say, he looked at her and smiled a smile which was familiar and yet at once, a ghost of the many smiles he had frequently smiled. He stood up and extended his hand to her.

"C'mon, since we're up, we might as well prepare breakfast."

She took his hand and immediately felt the brilliant spark that seemingly never left them. Once she was standing, their hands instantly dropped apart. She followed him into the kitchen in silence.

"Ryan," she called out as they stepped inside. He looked at her expectantly. "I'm sorry. About Berkeley, not coming back…"

"Don't be," he replied swiftly. "Please." He smiled at her and it was warm and exuberant but a sadness still lingered. She still smiled back. They spent the morning making pancakes, exchanging lighthearted stories from their time apart. He told her about how he was a terrible skier, she laughed and told him about her disastrous first attempt at baking in Paris. It felt enticingly familiar. They talked and talked but the questions and the doubts, the remnants of their past that inevitably loomed over them, they all remained unspoken.


End file.
